Damian's choice
by MedicodellaPeste
Summary: who lives and who dies? tonight Damian has to decide one member of his batfamily to die at the hands of the Red Hood. his choice might surprise more than one.
1. Chapter 1

Just a little something that I came up with after seeing some couple of images on good ol' tumblr. This is my first attempt at something serious and first Batman fic. If you must know I place this story in the nu52 verse cuz that's what I'm more familiar with.

Disclaimer: Batman and his children and associated characters are property of DC and this is done with no intention of having any sort of monetary remuneration of any sort, blah blah blah

**Damian's Choice**

— So, who's gonna be, _baby bird_? — Todd's voice, filtered through his mouth less helmet sounded metallic and alien to the young Robin who could do nothing but give his "brother" a death glare.

— come on little one! Don't leave me hanging after all the troubles I went through to get all the family together. — Thanks to the helmet, Todd's twisted joker like smile went unnoticed by his former family.

In the lapse of 2 dreadful weeks, the Red Hood had managed to catch everyone, from, Former wheelchair bound Oracle, now Batgirl, to his 3 brothers and, even the big B had fallen to him, all beaten up and caught in the same warehouse, unable to escape, unable to speak, all they could do is watch as Jason Todd, guns in hand threatened to kill one of them, and only one, and it was none other than 10 year old Damian Wayne, the family's unstable little ball of hate and murder who would choose whose life was to end, unless, of course that the former master assassin preferred to have them all killed by not choosing one and put an end to the legend of the Batman once and for all.

— is it your "beloved" Red Robin?, the one who you've personally tried to kill in the past?— Todd removed the ball gag from the kid, allowing him to speak, only to receive a big ball of spit on his hood.

— Whoa, feisty, aren't we? Then, I guess I'll kill your dear Father — the end of his gun pointed towards the head of a heavily beaten Bruce who laid, apparently, unconscious over the dirty floor, his utility belt nowhere to be seen.

— get the fuck away from _my_ father! — The way the boy talked about his father, the very man who adopted the former Robin and protected him as if he were his own son resonated in Todd's mind. He removed the gun from Bruce's head.

— Then how about Nightwing? You find him annoying, don't you, kid? Besides, how can you become Batman with little Dick Grayson on the line? — Todd laughed, both of his guns now pointed towards a very conscious Nightwing, who like Damian, hanged from the ceiling, trapped by chains, unable to move or to speak.

— Or how about we take the odd one out and get rid of Batgirl? You barely know her — he said — and it wouldn't be the first time she gets a bullet to her gut, maybe it's time to go back to the wheelchair, eh Babs? — Todd laughed

— No, stop — defeat could be traced in Damian's voice; like he had accepted the fate placed onto him by Todd

— So, you've taken a decision now — Todd got closer to the boy in chains

— Yes, I've have — Robin sounded like a Dignified official instead of a 10 year old boy, Todd readied his guns.

— So, who's gonna have the pleasure of kissing their ass goodbye? —

— Me — Robin's childish voice echoed through the empty warehouse.

— What? — If the other members of the family could see the look on Jason's face, they would've seen his wide eyes like 2 big plates and his twisted smile nowhere to be seen.

— What are you waiting for, Todd? Would you like it on paper? — The child asked, annoyed at the man's sudden lack of response.

With difficulty, Damian had managed to free one of his arms out of the thick chains that imprisoned him; he slowly lifted his injured arm and placed the end of the Red Hood's gun on his forehead.

— If you shot me right here, not even the Lazarus pit will bring me back — Todd remained frozen, he could hear his brothers and Batgirl trying to break free, Bruce seemed to start regaining consciousness.

— I… — was Todd getting second thoughts?, if Damian got out of this alive, he would make sure to beat the living shit out of Jason Todd; first for threatening to kill _his_ family and second for chickening out at the thought of killing him and denying him the opportunity of having a honorable death.

— You're such a coward Todd — Robin was the first to speak, his young voice filled with rage.

— don't you belittle me, you little shit, I'm the one who has the gun — Todd exploded.

— Then do it — Damian's voice was calm, he had accepted his fate.

A loud bang was heard and silence fell.

Todd's helmet and guns fell to the floor, his face was almost white pale, dark veins all over, a twisted smiled that faded slowly and tears flowing under his red domino mask.

— Todd — Damian's voice echoed in the warehouse once again. By the looks of it, he had been poisoned, some new form of the Joker's Toxin maybe?

A slow clap could be heard all over the warehouse — well Reddy, bravo, that was a spectacular performance — the distinct voice and twisted, bone chilling laughter of the Clown Prince could be heard all over the place.

— Too bad that the climax didn't end with a bang, but worry not, we'll take care of it — that god dammed laughter again, if Damian ever got a hold of the Joker…

— Todd, release me at once — Damian yelled with clear urgency on his voice — the Red hood remained unresponsive, knees on the floor, he looked shocked to the core.

— TODD — the child assassins screamed again — snap out of it, Todd — Robin screamed with all his might as a green gas started to fill the place. The explosion that followed was big enough that was seen trough half of Gotham

Damian slowly opened his eyes, every muscle and every bone in his young body felt like he had been in a giant blender

— Father! —

— Shhh, you're hurt don't speak — he suddenly found himself on his father's arms, Nightwing held a barely conscious Batgirl while Drake carried an unconscious Todd to safety. The bat family, _his_ family continued in absolute silence, Damian could barely hear the sound of the firemen in the distance before dozing off.

So that's it, for now, my original idea was exploring a little bit of how Damian sees the world, I really thing that out of all the batkids he would be the most interested in the concept of Honor an such a thing like an Honorable Death. I might decide to continue but I'll just let u guys let me know if I should leave it as a one shot or continue ;)

Se yaa!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Batman and his children and associated characters are property of DC and this is done with no intention of having any sort of monetary remuneration of any sort, blah blah blah…

So, I was told that I should properly explained how they got out, so let's do a little experiment and let's see Bruce perspective!

Bruce opened his eyes; his head felt like it had been thrown in a blender. He lifted an armored arm to his head, his cowl was still there, or what was left of it, the horns where broken and one of the eye lenses was fractured, but his utility belt was gone.

— Whoa, feisty, aren't we? Then, I guess I'll kill your dear Father — Bruce closed his eyes and pretended to be knocked out. He soon felt the point of a gun on his head

— get the fuck away from _my_ father! — That was Damian's voice; Bruce forced himself to lay still, it all came to him so suddenly that his head started pounding again. Jason had been acting rogue again, he had taken upon himself to gather the family, and Dick had been the first to fall to the Red Hood, followed by Damian &amp; Barbara &amp; Tim. He had been hunting them, but why? Jason's gripe had always been with Batman, not with his brothers.

— Then how about Nightwing? You find him annoying, don't you, kid? Besides, how can you become Batman with little Dickie Grayson on the line? — Bruce heart's skipped a beat, Jason was clearly instable and he was about to snap at any time, he tried to will his body to stand up, to tackle Jason, to do anything, but it just wasn't responding, was he too weak?

— Or how about we take the odd one out and get rid of Batgirl? You barely know her — he said — and it wouldn't be the first time she gets a bullet to the gut, maybe it's time to go back to the wheelchair, eh Babs? — Todd laughed; Bruce had heard that laughter before, that same bone chilling laugh that haunted him since that terrible night in Ethiopia. Could it be? Batman was furious with the Red hood but, Bruce felt that deep regret over Jason, if he had tried harder, maybe Jason wouldn't have to suffer the way he did.

— No, stop — defeat could be traced in Damian's voice.

— So, you've taken a decision now —Bruce's senses tingled, he tried to accumulate as much strength and willpower to move, he couldn't let them down, he couldn't let Jason down. Not this time.

— Yes, I've have — Robin sounded like a Dignified official instead of a 10 year old boy.

— _No, Damian. Don't_ — Bruce Thought to himself, a horrible idea had formed in his mind as his heart quenched, brothers shouldn't kill each other.

— So, who's gonna have the pleasure of kissing their ass goodbye? —

— Me — Robin's childish voice echoed through the empty warehouse

— What? — Bruce could feel Jason's distress; he had very little time left before everything went to hell. Taking advantage of Jason's inactivity He dragged himself towards Dick

— What are you waiting for, Todd? Would you like it on paper? —

— Dick, there's no time left — the Batman reached his elder son and used his bindings to stand up, half trying to work out the locks to free him, half monitoring Jason's behind — when you're free, take Tim &amp; Barbara and get them to safety.

— But Bruce, you're injured! — Dick's answered as soon as his mouth was free, his voice was clearly distressed.

— If you shot me right here, not even the Lazarus pit will bring me back —

— There is no time, just _do it_, — the Batman ordered, and Nightwing obliged; even though he had been captive the longest, he had also carried the less injuries, was this Jason's way of asking for help?

— I… — Bruce was certain of it now, Jason had been poisoned with some sort of Toxin, and now he was fighting it

— You're such a coward Todd — I was in moments like this when he would have liked to smack Robin, he was making it worse, Bruce tried to run as fast as he could but, the injuries that he had sustained prior to getting caught had taken its toll

— don't you belittle me, you little shit, I'm the one who has the gun —

— Then do it —

Bruce wanted to scream, he wasn't sure wherever or not he actually screamed; a hurricane of emotions took hold of his heart and mind. There it goes again, another son, another robin and it all had been because of him.

A loud bang was heard and silence fell.

The Batman exhaled in relief, for Jason had pointed towards the ceiling, both of his boys were still alive.

He could hear the muffled sounds of Dick , Tim &amp; Barbara, covered to Damian by Jason's from, trying to find a way out of the warehouse

It wasn't the clap that brought him back to reality, but his voice, the insane cackling, the smell of gas flooding the warehouse and Damian's desesperate yelling.

His boy was yelling, asking for help. His boy was crying, his boys where all in danger. His family was in danger. That was more than his heart could take.

The Bat quickly stood up and signaled Dick to follow, he saw how Tim grabbed Jason, and Dick on his left carrying Barbara. With all of his remaining strength, he reached Damian and plucked him out of the chains before kicking down the door.

They made it just mere seconds before the explosion.

— Father! — Bruce saw how Damian's face lit in surprise and relief. He repressed a tear.

— Shhh, you're hurt don't speak — he said. And soon before, the little boy was asleep, safe on his arms where he belonged.

That was shorter than what I expected. Well fuck.

Still, hope you've liked Bruce's perspective. I feel he has a lot on his head that he never says. Doesn't he?

Coming up next: what will be of Jason? Will he feel guilty of what he did? Will Joker get the final laugh? What will Damian's choice mean for Tim? Will Dick smother Damian with hugs to death? Will I ever shut up?

Be sure to tell me what you think about this, and sorry for the repetition


	3. Chapter 3

I'm so sorry that this took ages, but it's just that I wasn't feeling it, and I'm still not convinced but here it is, to compensate for the long wait I've made it extra long. Warning, racism ahead.

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That night at the batcave

Bruce slapped Damian, throwing the little boy out of balance into the cold hard floor of the med bay, disturbing the rest of the clan and placing all eyes on him, they had been yelling at each other for a good hour. The batman felt regret the second his ungloved hand touched the child's soft skin, but he couldn't help himself, he was shaking in anger, the last few weeks had taken his toll on him and Damian's willingness to give up his life was the straw that broke the camel's back

The moment Bruce saw the boy with that surprised look on his face. All that he wanted to do was to hold him in his arms. But he didn't.

— You are suspended from patrolling until further notice — the batman dictated sentence, no one dared to move yet they all couldn't help but to stare, Alfred glared Bruce with a look of disapproval but he remained quiet. Damian could feel his head becoming red in a mixture of shame and surprise at being hit by Bruce. Nobody said a thing till the Batman left the med bay.

— Dami! —Dick rushed to comfort the boy.

— I'm fine Grayson; I'm not a child for you to look after! — Damian responded, cutting and aggressive.

— I'm perfectly able to stand by my self — the boy rejected Dick's help and promptly left the bat cave. Leaving a very upset Dick on the med bay.

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Bruce sat on his chair, the cowl and the breastplate of his armor discarded, leaving his naked and heavily bandaged torso exposed to the cold air of the cave. The screens in front of him showcased the details of the toxin in Jason's body, the places where his kids had been adducted &amp; the last known whereabouts of the Joker.

— You will catch a cold like that, Master Bruce — Alfred Scold him. — And you should be in bed —

Bed? While that psychotic piece of death worshiping garbage was on the loose after what he did to Jason? After hurting, his kids? _His_ family?

— I need to work — Bruce answered coldly, repressing a headache and shutting his emotional vortex inside him.

— What about Damian? — Bruce frowned at that familiar voice; he could feel Dick's distress. Couldn't blame him tough. He tried to focus on the screen.

—Damian needs to learn not to be reckless — he said, more to himself than to Dick. The headache was becoming stronger; was the light of the screens always this bright?

—I get it, B, what he did was reckless, but you gotta give the kid some credit — his elder child said, Dick was still upset over Damian, and with Damian, no matter how many ways to kill a grown man with a single hand he knew, that kid was still his little brother. —he might have saved us all —

Bruce rested his head on his hands. He knew Dick was right, if it wasn't for Damian holding Jason's attention he would probably wouldn't be able to get them out in time. His nerves had gotten the best of him.

—I will…— he started feeling dizzy, his vision blurring.

— Bruce? — Dick quickly approached his mentor.

Bruce collapsed on his chair instead of responding; he could hear the faint voices of Alfred and Dick talking in the distance before everything went black.

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1 day later

Damian stepped out of the tub with ease, his small body relaxed and clean; his mind, not so much. He quickly took his towel to dry the excess water but didn't complete the operation, as he found himself standing in front of an antique full body mirror.

Out of pure instinct, he took a hand to his left cheek; the redness of the punishment performed by Father was long gone.

The boy soon took notice of the scars that he had gained over the years, thanks to Alfred, most of them where barely noticeable anymore, yet they remained on his body as proof of his time as the Heir to the Demon's head in the League of Assassins.

His entire life had been defined by these scars, the one on his wrist was his first permanent scar; he had gained it when he was tasked to climb a mountain when he turned 4, it reminded him of the expectations that where set upon him on the moment of his conception. he looked on his left thigh, where his teacher's sword when trough, leaving another permanent mark at age 5, just to remind him that he was no longer a child and that crying was no longer acceptable. The little dots over his shoulders, arms and legs where from arrows he had failed to dodge at age 7, if he was going to be the new Alexander the Great, or, to _any_ use for the League of assassins, he needed to be faster than an arrow or a bullet. The thin faint lines of his back where the remnants of the lashes he would receive when he would misbehave or cry. There was another one( barely visible at that), Just under his right nipple, this one was recent, Alfred had taken a bullet from there (the man's stitches where impeccable), this one held a deeper meaning, his compromise to his father, and the new life that he had chosen, away from the league of assassins and the Demon's head.

Yes, his entire life had been defined by scars, yet, none of his physical scars hurt as much as the lingering memory on the back of his mind, repeating that moment over and over, the paint, the humiliation &amp; the rage, torturing him.

Damian didn't understand why Father had reacted that way. Out of all the things that he had learnt in the League, he had always figured that, the concept of honor, or at least, that of honorable death would be something that he would approve, seeing as father did that every night and as he was allowed to do so himself, putting his life on the line so that others could live, so that he could be useful to him.

But his father would not have him. He had completely cut ties with the league of shadows for him and yet.

A faint knock on the door took Damian back to reality. He suddenly noticed, not only that he was still naked but that he was cold. He quickly wrapped himself in his blue towel robe and left his bathroom.

— Grayson, I already told you…— he stopped dead on his tracks, it wasn't Dick the one who was standing in the entrance of his room.

—what are _you_ doing here, Drake? — He spat the words as if they where poison.

— I, um, just wanted to see if you where ok — Tim said in a whisper, his weight shifting every few seconds.

Damian clicked his tongue —I am in optimal condition, Drake, your worries are unfounded —

— You haven't left your room in 2 whole days— Damian looked at Drake as if he had grown a second head.

— What of it? —the boy asked shrugging it off

—Dick is very worried about you — Tim answered

—Why do you even care, _Drake_? —the child answered in exasperation — this is nothing compared to the training in the League of Shadows —the kid tried to laugh it off.

— You're being a huge Drama Queen, you know that? — Tim was starting to lose the small patience that he had with Damian, that kid sure knew how to push his buttons.

— did you come all this way just to mock me? — Damian asked; an emotionless look on his face. Tim shacked his head.

— Then speak —the child urged Tim. He too was running out of patience.

—I…. — Damian sighed —what do you want, Drake? — Damian snapped at Tim

—why didn't you let Jason shoot me, Damian? — Tim finally snapped and silence fell.

—why can't I be useful to Father? — The child asked after a while. Both boys exchanged glances. Tim could sense some grief in the kid's voice but he didn't comment on it.

— Look, I don't understand why you did what you did, and yes, Bruce was out of the line by hitting you, but you can't tell me that it wasn't reckless to offer yourself as a scapegoat — he answered.

—you're right, you wouldn't understand it — Damian looked away, feeling unable to face Tim. So he decided to shut the door in his face instead.

—HEY! — Tim was surprised at the kid's reaction was not expecting it. In response to his protests Damian locked the door.

— go away, Drake — Damian yelled from the other side of the door

— You're not useful to anyone dead, you know? — He whispered at the door, Tim was furious with Damian but he didn't try to open the door.

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Gotham Academy

Outskirts of Gotham city

5th Grade - Class B

2 days later

As usual, Damian sat on the very last row of the class and, as every single morning the kids, his so called, class mates, the offspring of the "Crème de la crème" of Gotham where staring and him.

As usual, the Youngest Wayne didn't cared; he had only agreed to attend school to keep up with appearances.

— Hey, Wayne! — Of course, that was easier said than done. Damian didn't bother to turn around to face the kid that was calling for him; he already knew who he was.

— is it true that your daddy fucked a terrorist? — Half the class erupted in laughter.

Dealing with School had been terribly boring but easy; the subjects covered where basic at best and while he was excused from physical education, thanks to Father, he had found a different outlet, as it turns out that Gotham Academy had acceptable installations dedicated to the arts.

However since the rumors of father having an affair with "a Middle Eastern woman with a, allegedly, criminal record" had surfaced, Damian's act of blending in became just that more difficult. Especially because for Damian that meant not talking to any classmates at school and pretending that those buffoons that called themselves teachers where figures of authority.

Thanks, in part, to Father's wits and his image as a philanthropist, the elites of Gotham where starting to forget the scandal of Damian's existence as Bruce Wayne's illegitimate child

— What's wrong Wayne? Missing your mommy? — The kid kept teasing Damian, waiting for a response. Damian ignored the kid, trying to maintain his act.

— remember your training — he though for himself, all those years traveling with mother all over the world, all those tests and scars he had gained; Damian thought about his mother, the woman who had brought him to the world, pretended to love him and discarded him when he stopped being useful, as if he was nothing more than a broken tool. Disowned by Mother and rejected by Father, he had given up everything to be here with him and now what did he had?

— I do not like being ignored, you sand nigger — the enraged boy screamed, followed by a massive gasp from the rest of the class, as he prepared to slap Damian in the face.

Damian grabbed his classmate by the wrist in one swift move. And before his aggressor could react he twisted his wrists furiously. Damian had just had enough of pretending.

—ARGH, you're hurting me—the kid squealed like rat, twisting his body trying to free himself from Damian's grip, but he just applied more pressure, before the baffled, scared and exited looks of his classmates who had surrounded the 2 boys.

—Mister Wayne! What is the meaning of this? — The entire class fell into silence as the homerun announced her presence. Damian promptly released the boy without acknowledging the teacher in front of him.

—Mr Powells, are you ok? — The 55 year old teacher was quick to reach the boy, taking him in her arms.

— Oh Mrs Umbridge, the new kid hurt me — Max Powells whimpered like a kicked puppy to his teacher. The teacher remained silent while checking Powells arm.

—Mr Jameson, take Mr Powells to the infirmary — she skpoke without taking her eyes from Damian, he suddenly felt all the eyes on the room on him; he remained quiet. — I hope you're aware of our 0 tolerance policy against _bullying_, Mr Wayne —

Umbridge quickly took Damian by the arm and pushed him out of the room.

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Gotham Academy

Principal's Office

Later that same day

When Damian first arrived in Gotham he had a noticeable tan, gained while training under the scorching desert sun in his Grandfather's main compound.

After some months of fighting only with the dim moonlight it became quite clear that his tan had started to fade, revealing his natural white skin that, as everything else in his body, resembled his father's own white, almost sickly looking, skin over his mother 's healthy light tan. She had made sure of it.

He never would have guessed that his origin or his _so called_ culture would become a problem in Gotham.

The only culture that Damian was raised in was the culture of the League of Shadows; one that held Grandfather Ra's Al Ghul as its one and only God. One that is found all over the world and speaks a thousand languages; one that at one time held him as their Crown Prince and now had offered 500 million dollars for his head.

He knew the only reason he ever spoke Arabic was because it was mother's mother tongue.

Damian watched the secretary being glued to her screen; the principal's door was sealed tight, he wondered if father had been called already.

Father...

He had given up everything for being with him and, stripped from the Robin mantle, father still rejected him.

What did he had left? With the secret of his origin out in the open; he had noticed the looks from the adults that had changed from pity to aversion meanwhile the kids had started noticing him, pointing fingers, calling names, he noted the fear in their eyes, they didn't thought he belonged with them, usually, he wouldn't care, he was willing to take it, he had Robin, and Batman, and Nightwing and Gordon, and even Red Hood and Drake.

Would mother take him back? No, she was building another one, faster, better, stronger

Damian stood up from his chair; the secretary took no notice of him as he left the office.

Mother was not an option anymore, and neither was father.

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Why, yes, Damian's quite the Drama Queen. But I think it makes sense for him, given his background as a warrior, I feel that he would take it as dishonor and all that, so that's where it's coming from.

I wanted to do something with bullying and that addressed, even if just a little, Damian's status as a biracial child, and his struggle with feeling that he doesn't properly belongs in neither his father's world nor his mother's and how can he deal stuff like School; again, still not quite convinced of this so let me know what you think of this chapter.

also, coming up Next, Jason

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	4. Chapter 4

Hey, it's me!

Yes, I am still alive!

Yes, this update was even longer than the last one

Yes, I am oh, so very sorry

But I wanna thank you to all of you who have left a review in the past few months! I probably wouldn't have continued it without your support!

I would really like to be able to say that everything's ok and that the next chapter will come out next week, but real life gets in the way a whole lot, but I do promise I'll try my best to give you something once a week!

I'm not entirely convinced of some parts, and I wanted to make it longer but longer= me taking more time to get this ready, so yeah….

There's not much else to say, this ep, as promised, is mostly about Jason

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Damian still remembered the day when Father had announced his existence to the world.

After what seemed like an eternity spent inside the, heavily guarded Wayne Estate, Father had finally managed to give him an identity and a nationality; meanwhile, Damian Al Ghul, Heir to the Demon Head, the child who was born outside the established society, who couldn't be traced, had started to fade into the darkness of oblivion.

He was Damian Wayne now, officially the youngest member of one of the 4 founding Families of Gotham, he was American now, and he even had a passport!

But all of this new found happiness and sense of belonging didn't last for much, for Damian Wayne soon experienced something that Damian Al Ghul never did; the looks of pity and contempt from every single adult who gazed upon him as well as the not so discrete comments made about him.

It soon became custom to hear the people of Gotham saying things like "poor little rich kid", "just another charity case" and, Jason's personal favorite: "the little bastard's so lucky he looks like his father, otherwise he'd still be in the slum where his slut of a mother birthed him" said by one of the members of the Board, well, ex member, since it soon became apparent that Damian had not been the only member of the Wayne Family to hear the man's words.

All it took was a single unannounced jab to the face by Richard John Grayson-Wayne, one of the multiple Heirs to the Wayne Empire and best known as Gotham's very own Paris Hilton, to knock the offender to the well-polished marble floor, along with several of his teeth.

Damian learned that night that the League of Assassin's and Gotham's Elite weren't so different as he first thought they would be &amp; that he could always count with the raw force of nature that was Dick Grayson to make a scandal that would effectively divert people's attention away from him.

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Amusement Mile

Near the Steel Mill

About a month earlier

Jason Todd roamed the rusty ruins of what once was Amusement Mile, Gotham's favorite spot during the first half of the previous century. Little of the Rich Art Deco &amp; Bright colors remained, especially so in the dead of night.

As the Red Hood walked through this cemetery of broken &amp; forgotten childhoods it became more apparent that he wasn't the first one there that night. After having a huge fight with the Bats &amp; Birds over some stupid little thing that he couldn't remember for the life of his, Todd had buried himself with work, which is the reason he had spent the last month behind the mysterious &amp; random disappearances of Gotham's children that had left the GCPD baffled and without a clue of who did it or if someone did it at all; of course, given that the grand majority of said children came from the poorest areas of the County didn't helped either.

Red Hood knew better; the kidnappings where the work of a highly efficient human trafficking ring that had set its operation on Gotham not too long ago and, had been surprisingly good at escaping the Bats &amp; the Birds grasp for far too long. Todd was particularly worried about the sudden interest of said ring in children.

The tire tracks &amp; other sings of recent activity had finally brought him to the old Steel Mill; his muscles tensed up as he unsheathed his twin handguns.

Perhaps, it was the perfect moment to swallow his dumb pride and ask the Bats for help; if this had been other than Jason Peter Todd-Wayne; The Prodigal son of Gotham's very own Prince, who had disappeared from the public view years ago to "study Abroad", the bats would've been involved, but no, he couldn't count on them, besides, _"the children might still be there!_", not to mention that the Joker hadn't been seen in almost a whole year, the place should've be devoid of his filth. he tried to rationalize as he entered the, _apparently_, abandoned Steel Mill by the front door only to be greeted by the macabre and twisted smile of Gotham's one and only Clown Prince of crime grotesquely painted on the front of the building.

Red Hood had to repress the urge to scream like a helpless baby. To his family, it was no secret that Jason suffered from a (very rational) almost paralyzing case of _coulrophobia_ and if Lady Luck where on his side, he would've back down, however as his good luck would have it, he had activated some sort of silent alarm and a small army of thugs dressed in clown clothes and make up and armed with steel pipes, knives, machetes and _crowbars_, had gathered surrounding the Red hood.

The fight shouldn't have taken that long, despite being heavily outnumbered; none of the clowns had firearms, unlike Red Hood's twin handguns with live ammunitions.

Bang! The first bullet missed its target but it lodged itself on some other clown's shoulder; Red Hood cursed to himself as he felt his, usually, sharp movements becoming blunt and desperate.

Bang! a second bullet took another clown but he never saw the steel pipe that hit him; the more time he spent in this place, the worse his reflexes where, not to mention his nonexistent defense, he was not going to last very long at this rhythm.

Bang! , Bang! Both bullets missed, lodging themselves on the rusty old walls, as if they were mocking him.

A flurry of bullets fell upon the clowns, killing several instantly and wounding some others; but not taking all of them, he soon heard the dreaded click of the empty magazines on both of his handguns so he quickly dropped them and started delivering kicks and punches to anything that dared to move; his breathing had become increasingly irregular and had started to seeing small flashes of events that where long behind him.

The last thing he saw before blacking out was the familiar shape of a bloody crowbar and a familiar voice barking commands in the distance.

The first thing Jason noticed when he woke up was the pain of his bruised body, the incoming headache &amp; the pressure of 2 thugs holding him down.

— Well, well, what do we have here? Heheheheheheh — that voice instantly put Jason on edge, his murderer was sitting in some grotesque harlequin throne, right in front of him. He suddenly felt an overwhelming and odd mix of fear and rage take control of his body; he tried frantically to move but to no avail, the Joker's thugs had a good grip on him, and, as if that wasn't enough, he quickly found out that he had been unarmed and tied up as well.

— If it isn't the little _dead Robin_ with a biker fetish! — The Clown cackled —and you arrived just in time to test my new formula— The Joker cackled once again as he showed Jason a srynge filled with some odd brownish green color. Jason divided his attention between the syringe on the Clown's hands and Derek Powells; the platinum blonde man in a Prada business suit &amp; Novel Nouveau Rich was (in)famous for being Founder and C.E.O. of Powells BioTech, a new corporation that in its short lifespan it had become infamous for unethical practices.

— I'm not done with you, Clown! — The man barked at the Joker who just sighed.

—where is my compensation? — He demanded.

— I already told you that I had no idea that the _toxin_ that I sold you was unstable and it would _kill _everyone who had come in contact with it. hehehehe — the Joker cackled.

— but this new Toxin is better, Powells, allow me to demonstrate! — He cackled some more as he shortened the distance between him and Jason, injecting his crap on the former Robin's system in one swift move before he could even protest.

It didn't took long before Jason felt the effects of the toxin on his body; he ripped the rope that binned him with one swift movement as if they were made of paper, the thugs who were holding him down were soon reduced to 2 bloody pools in the dirty floor of the mill.

All this had earned another cackle from the Joker and a gasp from Powells.

The Joker, that piece of death worshiping garbage was still breathing air, he'd do it this time, he'd snap the Clown's neck, hell he'd even rip his still beating heart from his chest and rid the world of this monster for once and for all.

Jason Faced the joker and...

— Red Hood, stop —the joker ordered, boredom in his voice, and Jason stopped dead in his tracks; he soon found that he was completely paralyzed.

Or perhaps not?

— See, Powells? It's perfect! — The joker cackled like he had made the best joke in history, Powells, on the other side, looked at the clown with no small amount of discomfort on his face.

— You, remove his helmet — the blond businessman ordered to one of the thugs;

— But, sir! — The thug tried to protest but a bullet, courtesy of the Joker, had lodged itself on the thug's brain, followed by the clown's macabre cackle.

—anyone else wants to complain? —Powells asked before pointing to another thug to remove the Red Hood's helmet.

The selected thug removed the red helmet with ease, revealing Jason's pitch black hair, bright red domino mask &amp; a twisted smile.

—a little theatrical, isn't it, _little Robin_? — The Joker continued his incessant cackling. By this point Jason was nothing more than a boiling pot of rage about to burst, yet still, he couldn't move an inch.

— Remove the mask — the blonde business man ordered, and the thug obeyed, only to receive a _powerful_ electric shock when he tried to remove it, earning another laugh from the joker.

— You're such a party pooper, Powells, there's no fun in trying to find out who they are! —the joker said, Powells just looked at him as if he had grown a second and a third head.

— You_ really_ wanna test my new toxin? Let him do the dirty work — the joker declared, that nasty grin on his face appearing again.

— Red Hood, go and kill the bat's children, spare the batman — the Prince Clown ordered. Earning the look of disapproval of his business partner. Jason regained the movement of his body and the first thing he did was to pounce at the thug who was holding his helmet, breaking the clown Thug's noses in the process and earning the cackling approval of the Joker.

— sparing the Batman?! — Powells yelled to the psychotic clown — you truly are Insane! —

—the Batman is _mine_! You hear? Mine! — The Clown growled and moved in such a way that if Jason hadn't known better, he'd swear that the answer to the mystery of the joker's name was Gollum.

He felt weird. He had wanted to kill the joker, and he was right there but he couldn't remember why, all he could think of was the betrayal of his, _so called family_, they had left him to die and promptly replaced him. He felt the need to torture and kill every single one of them.

Jason Todd suddenly found himself outside of the steel mill and before he could realize again, he was on his bike, roaming the streets of Gotham.

To Jason, that whole month that he spent under the joker's influence, came and left with a blink, leaving only short flashes of consciousness &amp; sanity.

He remembered having lured Nightwing &amp; the scarlet red of his new suit; the look of betrayal on his face and the chains that he had put on him. Where those to imprison his older brother? Or to protect him?

Batgirl came next, following the tracks of her beloved Nightwing, even though she would probably never admit it. He had spent so long outside of Gotham with the Outlaws and by himself that he had forgotten that Barbara was not only able to walk now, but that she was back to her former glory. Jason soon found out that, Capturing Batgirl quickly turned out to be so much harder than Nightwing, even still, he found himself feeling unhappy when he finally did eventually got her. Barbara had always been a dear friend of his.

The Replacement and the Replacement's Replacement came soon after, definitely against the bat's orders. Their constant petty fights made them easy to catch, but something changed that night.

If looks could kill, Damian's body count would probably triple up. Even behind his green domino mask, his batglare was something to be reckoned with.

Unlike Dick's look of betrayal or Barbara &amp; Tim's looks of worry, Damian's glare transpired so much pure unadulterated hate that Jason was actually surprised that the kid hadn't summoned his own red lantern ring by now.

He soon found himself with an idea; he would make _him_ choose who was to be killed, the brat would choose someone, Damian being the predicable little shit he was would probably pick Tim, Jason would get his revenge for being replaced, Dick, Barbara &amp; even Bruce would disown him so fast he would never know what hit him, the family would be shattered, then, while they were at their lowest, he would get rid of the rest and his job would be complete.

While Jason had the capacity to plot, he found himself uninterested in torturing them or doing anything with his captive brothers (&amp; his almost sister?); he felt strong enough to capture them, and to taunt them, but not strong enough to actually pulling the trigger, the more time it passed the more his state of mind became erratic and unpredictable.

After the 2 youngest brats where in his power, Batman soon found him.

The battle that ensued was long and strained. On one side Jason unleashed all of his rage and resentment against the bat for all that had happened, on the other, Batman, always the overprotective father juggled between his heartache over fighting each other like this and his duty to stop Jason and get back his children, all of them.

It was a simple slip what allowed Jason to take the upper hand; the Red Hood left a heavily beaten and bloodied batman on the floor; he repressed the urge to chain him or to tie him up, it didn't made sense but it felt the same as when he had capture the rest of the family; he just couldn't bring himself to do it for some reason that was beyond him.

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Ok, so that's it for today!

Not a whole lot of Damian on this chapter, but I really wanted to dedicate some more time to Jason, and I'd like to dedicate at least one ep to the other bat family members too, but we'll see, honestly, not even God knows where this is going!

This is still inspired of the New 52 but I've been thinking of adding Cassandra Cain and some other characters like Colin Wilikes mostly cuz they're awesome!

Anyways…

Please do let me know what do you think of this, some stuff may feel awkward to which in my defense English is not my first language and I have no beta reader, so yeah…


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